Before Rose
by NobleWriterofWho
Summary: Before Rose and after the Time War. This time is one of the darkest in the Doctor's long life. It is a time where the Doctor is without hope and alone. Utterly alone. He doesn't have a clue what his future holds, nor does he care. He might not even have one if he doesn't change his self-destructive ways.
1. Chapter 1

Before Rose

-NobleWriterofWho

**Author's Note** : This one is gonna have chapters! Also, constructive criticism appreciated.

**Summary: **Before Rose and after the Time War. This time is one of the darkest in the doctors long life. It is a time where the doctor is without hope and alone. Utterly alone. He doesn't have a clue what his future holds, nor does he care. He might not even have one if he doesn't change his self-destructive ways.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who**…

…

**Chapter 1: Reborn**

When he woke up he knew that something had gone terribly wrong. He was laying on the floor of the control room. The grating pressed up against his face. His eyes struggled to adjust as the lights flashed. His mind is still hazy. He couldn't remember...couldn't remember something important. Very important. His clothes were too tight. His body didn't feel right. He wasn't in pain though. There wasn't a scratch on his body he was sure which meant regeneration.

"I've regenerated!" he whispered. His voice was different too; it sounded like he was from the North. He couldn't decide if that was an improvement or not from the posh, gravely accent he had before. it was hard to focus on anything like why the TARDIS was a wreck or even why he had regenerated. Was that fire? A few different small fires ablaze around the control room. He stumbled to his feet. He should deal with them. Then, he faltered. His memories were starting to return to him. Very slowly though. Only bits and pieces of...he didn't know. They had to be recent events as his long term memory was still intact. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his head despairingly willing them to come back faster.

The Time War. He remembered finally giving in and fighting after Cass's needless death. The horrors of the war. The things he'd done. Despite his best efforts, they had been losing right but, they had been planning something. Rassilon and the High Council. Something terrible. The Fall of Arcadia...that was the last thing he could remember. Rassilon. He couldn't breathe. He'd been so focused on his memories he hadn't noticed. The TARDIS must have been helping him too. She was singing to him so loudly; trying to distract him from it. The emptiness, no, the hole in his mind where they should have been. Every Gallifreyan was connected to each other telepathically just slightly. It was a constant buzz in the corner of his mind, but it had always been there. Until now. It was gone and it hurt. It hurt so badly. Which meant they were too. Not just Time Lords and Ladies, but every Gallifreyan. Every man, woman, and child gone. There wasn't even a whisper. But that was impossible. Unless…

"No!" he shouted over and over as he raced around the console room typing in coordinates. He flung the doors open to find only darkness. Gallifrey was gone. Even it's suns. Gone. He fell to his knees in front of the door. His mouth hung permanently open. His body shook. Tears gathered in his eyes, but he was still too shocked for them to fall yet. Blinding pain shot through his head. Now, he finally remembered everything. He froze for a moment then crumpled to the ground. His tears fell freely now. Gallifrey wasn't just gone it had been destroyed. By him.

He started to crawl closer to the edge, but the doors slammed shut. The TARDIS. She was still trying to save him. She was the only reason he was still alive, and now she was saving him again. He didn't have the strength to scream at her. He didn't have the strength to do anything at the moment. His body was lead, and it weighed a thousand pounds. He was still regenerating. His insides fizzing; he had no idea what kind of man he was going to be, he didn't care. Nevertheless, he shouldn't be surprised that he already used up all his energy. His eyes were starting to drift close when he realized something. The TARDIS hadn't saved him; she had condemned to a fate far worse than death. The last of his kind. The Last of the Time Lords. He would soon learn what that truly meant.


	2. Chapter 2

Before Rose

-NobleWriterofWho

**Author's Note: Second chapter yay! Warning this chapter contain suicidal thoughts and actions. I'm not rating it an M because it is in graphic. At all. However, use your own judgment before reading. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.**

**...**

**Chapter 2: Oblivion**

He didn't know how many days have passed since his regeneration. How many days have passed since he destroyed Gallifrey. He didn't care. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Things like eating, sleeping, etc, they didn't matter. So he didn't do them. As simple as that. His new body was growing weak already. Maybe it would have been fine if he had drank something, but he didn't done that either. It didn't matter. He was slowly wasting away. Who cares; certainly not him. Plus, the weaker he grew the easier it was to not think. All that did matter was not thinking. The art of not thinking was not something he had ever mastered or been any good at for that matter. His mind raced and thousand different directions most of the time teeming with ideas and knowledge. And memories, so many memories. And so much more. Too much. The point was, it was never vacant. Trying to clear it all away was so difficult. Being a Time Lord made it easier and harder. It was his Time Lord mind allowed for this sort of chaos. Other species couldn't have functioned in his state. But, he also should have had the ability to organize his thoughts. Clear things away. Most Time Lords could. He'd' always been a screw up, especially by their standards.

Not thinking was very hard, yes, but, he was getting better at it. He sat at his spot on the control room floor for a long time not thinking. It took a lot of concentration, so those other things he should be doing he really didn't have time for. The smallest lapse of attention and everything came back. His thoughts had one common trend, to lead him to horrific things. Horrible things led to dangerous thoughts. And left unchecked those became actions. He didn't want to remember, but he couldn't forget. Not with the silence in his mind, and the pain it caused.

_"Gone," _he whispered. The Doctor wouldn't say he was alive. He existed, that was it. Sitting on the floor. Staring at nothing. _Not thinking. Never thinking. _No, he wasn't thinking about them. The Time Lords who were all gone. And he was still here. His family, his friends, and everyone else was gone. Because of him. Because of the Doctor. But he wasn't really the Doctor anymore. After what he had done how could he be? What should he call himself now? Except, that didn't matter. The chances of him getting up and walking out those doors to see any part of the universe were slim. Nil. Void. If there was an emotion the Doctor knew to describe what he was feeling, because he should be feeling something, it was void. Void of everything or at least trying to be which meant he wasn't completely void. That wasn't the point. The point was he was a shell of the man he used to be. Not the Doctor; never again. Because the Time Lords were all gone. He was still here.

_Wait! _"I'm still alive!" he exclaimed so horrified he forgot to feel like an idiot. Not thinking had blocked out this realization however obvious it was. And the sheer weight of it had made it take a long time for it to sink in and for him to comprehend that that was a problem. He was still alive, but he shouldn't be. He should have died with them. That had been the plan. And he'd been sitting on his backside doing nothing to rectify the situation. It was wrong for him to live after so many had lost their lives. All those children. But, he could fix this. For so long in the Time War he had fought; now it was time for him to fight again. For just a little while. And it would be a fight. The TARDIS wasn't going to just let him die. She had proven that a thousand times over. He'd have to do a good job of making sure she couldn't save him. This was too important to screw up. He jumped to his feet wobbling, and struggling to stay upright gripping the console for balance. Once she realized what he was doing she'd hide any potential weapons. He might have to get creative. Sprinting wasn't an option, but he managed to speed walk, pins and needles shooting through his legs with every step. The bathroom. Any bathroom would do. There were plenty of sharp objects in there. It would be painful, but that was good. It should be. Burning alive was in a painless death, and that was what he had subjected his race too. The more it hurt the better. A penance for his sins.

He swung a white door open. This bathroom was closest to the control room and because of that the one his companions used the most frequently. Had used he corrected himself. No one would ever step foot aboard this ship again. Anyway, it was stocked rather well because of this. He slammed his fist shattering the mirror before he could see his reflection. The mere thought of looking himself in the eyes...he shuddered. Under the sink there was medication. Over-the-counter drugs that humans typically used. They seemed to attract illness. Colds, headaches, they were so fragile. It annoyed and worried him usually, but now he was grateful. So incredibly grateful. Many of their drugs were deadly to Time Lords. Aspirin being one of them.

Staring at the bottle in his hand for some reason it didn't feel right. This option wasn't painful enough. He poured three in his hand anyway and swallowed. Then, gingerly he picked up a small shard of glass that was on the counter. Transfixed for only a few moments his face split into a grin. This would be painful enough. He cut deep. The glass slipped from his hand. Blood bubbled up from his wrist running down his arm. A sense of calm washed over him. He'd been right. It was excruciating. Somehow he made it back to the control room. The aspirin was already starting to affect him. The Cloister Bell was ringing, and the lights were flashing. The TARDIS was taking him somewhere. She was too late; the deed was done. Peace filled him. He could rest now. Things have been put right. It was all over.

An urge suddenly came over him. He should open those doors. Look out and see the stars one last time. What harm could it do? They should be the last thing he saw. He wanted to see them. Needed to. After everything he had sacrificed to save them it didn't seem right not to. So, when they had landed he opened the doors and stepped out. It felt right. It wouldn't change anything. He was so wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

Before Rose

-NobleWriterofWho

**Author's note: Sorry for how long this took. I have wrote it a long time ago just didn't put it up. Better late than never. This chapter is tamer than the last, but still use your own judgment. Thanks again!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. **

...

**Chapter 3: Lost**

The Doctor jerked awake. He tried to sit up fighting a wave of dizziness. Something pulled at his arm. Through his blurry vision he saw an IV stuck in gaped at it. This wasn't right he was supposed to be...

"Dead," he whispered to himself.

Breathing deeply it dawned on him where he was. A hospital room. They all smell the same; sickness and death covered up by an overwhelming amount of chemicals. He hated hospitals. He called himself the Doctor but he's still hated them. Shakily he glanced his wrist. It was bandaged as well as part of his hand. Still, the aspirin should have killed him. Unless they-no they couldn't have. He tore at the bandage angrily. He couldn't even die properly! He was getting somewhere with his bandage somehow despite his weakened state when a hand gently pulled his away and to his chest.

"Easy there, sir," the woman said.

She was a humanoid with gray fur, floppy ears, and a...well, she really rather resembled what human called a rabbit in humanoid form. He had never met any of her kind before. Where was he anyway? Blinking he realized she had been talking to him all this time

"-don't want to be strapped down now do we."

He stiffened. "Strapped down! Now why would you do that?"

"We didn't fix you up just so you could hurt yourself again. All necessary measures will be taken to ensure you are in danger to yourself or anyone else while you're here recovering," she said calmly looking at him with eyes far too kind. "Don't you worry about that just yet. Focus on getting yourself better. Your condition is stable. That's what's important now."

He shook his head vigorously. "What did you do to me? How did you even-" He stopped his voice trembling.

"Pulmonary and cerebral embolism caused by what we presumed was something you ingested. There wasn't time to be sure. That's the way a lot of people do it. To put it simply, we found your stomach. And fixed your wrist up obviously."

"Obviously," the Doctor echoed shocked.

The TARDIS must have landed in here so they could find him. She was saying something about it being a miracle he had survived. It wasn't; was the universe spitting in his face. What was it trying to tell him? He had been trying to do the right thing. At least he thought it had been. The universe wanted him to suffer. Maybe that was it. He deserved to live with his guilt as the sole survivor of his race. Was that his punishment? Living. He cleared his thoughts.

"Well, thanks! What was it, Nurse?"

"Doctor," she corrected with a smile. Dr. Cara Valter."

"Of course. I'll be going now," he said plastering a grin on his face and peeling the covers off. He didn't get far.

"You're not going anywhere. You're far from fine. We care about our patients physical and mental well-being here at Yaran Heights. You tried to take your own life. Until you are no longer a danger to yourself or others you are not permitted to leave. Now, is there anyone I can contact for you. Anyone who needs to know about your whereabouts?"

The Doctor ignored her questions bristling. "You can't keep me here."

She smirked. "Watch us."

He shook his head. He managed to swing his feet to the floor. Another wave of dizziness passed over him. He stood almost falling but writing himself just in time.

"Sir, please stop. Do I need to call security?"

He brushed past her. Not to the door but the window by his bed. Where was he? He looked outside expecting to see a vast city. Instead it looked like the countryside. Rolling hills dotted with a few trees. The grass was...red. Just like-

He screeched. Covering his face he backed away from the sight so quickly he started to fall. Dr. Valter caught him. She was surprisingly strong for her size. She lifted him back into his bed.

"Where am I?" he sputtered, his eyes wide.

"Yaran Heights as I said before, sir."

"No, what planet?" he said his voice rising.

Her face lit up with understanding now. "You're on Edona 4."

Edona 4. He's never heard of it. However, the universe was a big place. Plenty of places he'd never been. None that he wanted to go to. Not anymore, all he really wanted...

"Century? What century?" he asked.

She looked very confused tilting her head but still answered.

"68th, sir."

He nodded. Good. Well, not compared to the end of the last but relatively. He sat back taking this all in. It explained the advanced medical practice. Focusing on the physical as well as mental health of the patient was unheard of in early times. This was an advanced civilization. And he could tell from the way she spoke, the pride in her voice, this place was a fine medical establishment equipped for dealing with people like him. No, not like him. In mental distress. Not that he was, well he's supposed to was. It was person perfectly reasonable considering everything. Unlike their other patients he had every reason to end it. He was so tired.

And this day he had no hope of escaping. And all appearances he had to pretend to get better until he was well enough to think of a clever plan. There was time. He get a second chance and this time do it properly. What an idiot he had been but he could fix this! He sat back in the bed resting his head on the pillow. Dr. Valter smiled at him liking his sudden change in mood. She turned to leave but then turn back to him with a frown.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I never got your name..."

It wasn't one he wanted or even liked at the moment, but it was the only one he had. Everything inside him screens that he wasn't but what else could he say.

"I'm the Doctor."


	4. Chapter 4

Before Rose

-NobleWriterofWho

**Author's Note: Hello! I'm back again. Warning: this chapter contains suicidal thoughts and actions. Read at your own discretion. And enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.**

...

**Chapter 4: Try Again**

The Doctor was biding his time. He just needed to be patient. That's what he had to keep telling himself. The opportunity would present itself eventually. He'd escape this wretched place. He needed them, and by them he mainly meant Dr. Valter, to trust him. So far he had done everything they had asked. Which was only for him to rest and take his meds, but he could have refused. He could be making this a lot harder on them. And even so his efforts seemed to be in vain. Nothing had changed. Security was no less tight. At every moment he was treated like he might try and escape. With the same caution of someone who might try and-he shook his head. After two weeks of being trapped here he was becoming impatient. How much longer would it take?

...

They wanted him to go to therapy. Therapy! Therapy where a complete stranger would try and pick his brain to fix what was 'wrong'. As if anyone could understand what he was going through. They said it was an important part of their treatment here. Since he had been so well-behaved they thought he was ready. He clenched and unclenched his fists struggling to keep his voice down.

"No," he repeated through gritted teeth.

Dr. Valter just sighed. "Please, you must understand the importance of opening up and talking to someone about your trauma! The only way to heal is to confront whatever happened to you."

She was trying to stay calm. She kept her tone gentle but stayed a good few places from his bedside. She did not like that wild look in his eyes.

"Who says I've been through any trauma?" the Doctor roared sitting straight up in his bed. "I'm completely fine."

"If you were fine you wouldn't be here. Dr. Simaon is one of our finest psychiatrists. He's going to help you. He'll arrive for his first session with you around ten tomorrow morning."

And with that she turned tail and left. The Doctor's blood was boiling just beneath the surface. With a scowl, he got up and went to the window. A clear sky. He looked down-red grass. The sight only made him more agitated. How far down? A good fifty to sixty feet at least. Not enough to be sure it would kill him. Not with the technology and medicine like theirs. If he were to jump they'd just save him again, and he'd be here even longer.

He needed a sure way that guaranteed success. He would not see their stupid psychiatrist! They couldn't make him. He searched the room for something, anything that could do the job. But they've been very careful. Not one sharp, pointy thing. Or enough wire or rope or...there was nothing.

Wait.

Soon they would bring him dinner, and after that they would escort him to the bathroom on this floor for his shower. It was one of the few times he had any privacy. It was the perfect, and maybe the only, time he could do it. Finally put an end to the mistake of his continued existence was. With a palm set in motion the Doctor smiled slightly. They would not save him this time.

...

The door to the bathroom closed behind him. He was alone. He only had thrifty minutes before they would come barging in to check on him. There were two rooms; one held the stalls and sinks and the other held all the showers. He walked into the bathing room, and went into the first one on the right. Like always there was only a bar of soap, sponge, bottle of shampoo and conditioner, and one extremely dull razor. He picked up the razor in his shaky hand. Looking down at his scarred wrist, he realized that he didn't want to attempt that particular method again. It wasn't like it had worked last time. And that glass had been have been ten times as sharp as the pathetic razor he now held. Stepping out of the shower, he scanned the room.

There was only one tub at the very end. It was deep enough. He raced to it and turned on the faucet. Minutes ticked away as it slowly filled. He didn't bother taking his clothes off. When they found his body, well, at least he would have a scrap of dignity left. He was surprised by all the emotions that flooded his mind as he climbed in. No sense of calm this time. Or excitement. His ears rang. It dawned on him the weight of what he was about to do. He was going to drown himself. The sound of water gushing into the tub faded away. The ringing in his ears got even louder The cold water made him shiver as it covered his body finally reaching his shoulders. Higher and higher. He shut it off before the tub overflowed. A twinge of fear pulled at his heart. Maybe he didn't really want to do this. No, this wasn't about want. He _had_ to do this.

The Doctor's breath hitched as he sunk down further into it's icy grasp. Finally all the way under he closed his eyes. With the respitory bypass he had this would take a while. In minutes his lungs started to burn. His hand gripped the sides of the tub; he kept his arms rigid and straight so that he wouldn't come back up. His body screamed at him to resurface but he fought with everything in him against that instinct. He fought as he thrashed around his body convulsing. Some of the water sloshed out. His eyes shot open. He needed air. He couldn't-

His mouth opened against his will. Water rushed in. He gagged choking on it. Never had he felt so helpless. In his panic somehow he managed to stay under. His grip still iron holding him down. But slowly he was losing his strength. This was the end. The thrashing stopped,but he still jerked sporadically. Faces flashed before his eyes. He saw them all again. His companions, his friends. People he would never see again now. Then, worst of all, he saw the TARDIS. Could she feel him die? Right now his life force fading: she could feel it. They were connected.

_I'm sorry._

The world faded to black around him. It was finished.


End file.
